


you doin' okay, mick?

by mickmousemilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Okay I'll stop now, Other, Post 6x01, an attempt at fixing things, because mickey deserves happiness, canon compliant(ish)?, i (: love (: mickey (:, i'll add tags as i go, it's just mickey and the other people in his inner circle (:, self ??? harm ??? tw ??? i think, this probs won't be a gallavich happy ending unless s6 ian stops being a rat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-25 04:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6180326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickmousemilkovich/pseuds/mickmousemilkovich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mickey milkovich, that's it, that's the summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. get your ass the fuck up, milkovich

Faint huffs of warm air were leaving innocent stains in form of pure adoration on the skin covering his shoulder blade. Silently snoring the toddler was cuddled up in Mickey’s arms, one of his hands gaping over his father’s right arm and dangling loosely, the other gripped securely by his father’s other hand.

With his son wrapped up safely in his arms he let the warmth radiating off his sleeping form comfort him in a way he’d never experienced it before.

Every once in a while the toddler would let out quiet cooing noises and every time he did Mickey would hold him just a bit tighter attempting to capture them.

He wanted to capture every single sound in a glass jar along with the color of his cheeks whenever he let out a warm giggle brighter than the sun itself and even the innocent puffiness of his nose when he cried because the world had upset him.

A slight sting in his chest made itself noticeable as he thought about sadness and frowns painting the child’s face.

_„He’ll fall asleep again in a second.“_

Mandy had told him way back one night in the hallway as he was getting up to take the child into his arms.

The whole family had gotten used to the sound of loud sobbing in the middle of yet another hot summer night.

His sister had looked exhausted, which, considering the time, would have been justified, but this had been a different kind of exhaustion.

Her thin legs draped only in the moonlight shining through the opened door of her room had given the impression of giving up on her any moment.

Her barely there smile had been more bitter than the new bruise right above it.

_„Babies cry always, normal.“_

Svetlana had told him another night as he was walking around through the whole house attempting to get his son to laugh again. The frustration of not understanding why the kid was crying had been visible in his face as his son’s tears stained his shoulders with wetness. 

_„It worries you, yes?“_

She had been standing in the doorframe leading into the living room watching her husband comfort the screaming toddler in his arms.

Mickey had known that it was nothing unusual for babies to cry, especially when waking up alone in the middle of the night, but it hadn't changed anything about the deep concern he’d felt creeping up his neck whenever Yevgeny would even make a sound close to a whine.

_„Crying for child is normal, I take care of son now.“_

Giving him a weak smile she had taken her son into her own arms and had nodded her head towards the door to Mickey’s bedroom.

_„You go back sleep to orange boy.“_

Mickey hadn’t been able to remember a time he himself had cried and someone had helped. He had wondered if Svetlana could.

He placed a loving kiss right onto his sleeping son’s forehead whose rosy lips escaped yet another sound too pure to be true. 

The room was filled with nothing but the shallow breaths of the toddler asleep safe and sound in his embrace.

As he turned his head to the right he found a completely different yet very familiar picture waiting in the doorframe.

Mandy.

Just as he remembered her.

Sporting long blonde hair as she had been doing back in the summer and eyeliner that screamed fuck-off in the sweetest way.

No bruises or injuries tainting her beautiful face to be spotted.

She was smiling contently at the scene in front of her, the tiredness that used to inhabit her eyes had been replaced with a special spark, those lit up eyes first glaring right at her nephew, then at her brother.

_It’s me._

That’s what she managed to say in a cocky way without words.

_I’m glad you’re back._

That’s what he responded with in a way more sincere way without words.

**BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ**

The familiar buzzer noise lets his dream dissolve. In the hastiness he can make out coarse voices shouting and the loud, unsettling footsteps on the floor. His head hurts like someone had just tried to bash it in with a hammer and he’s positive his entire body is made of ice.

He rubs at his eyes in an attempt to make out his surroundings and see everything clearer. The only thing he can feel around himself is degrees below zero and itchy bedding. No warmth. No happy sounds. Just the rattling of the bars he’s caged in.

„Get your ass the fuck up, Milkovich.“

His bed rocks underneath him when his cellmate places a hard kick to his single bunk letting the hammer attack his head one more time.

Without another wasted moment he gets up from the bed, the temperature making him shiver, and lets the guard certify his presence who leaves in order to continue his count-route right after.

„C’mon, s’ time for the kitchen.“

After taking in reality for a brisk second he quickly changes into the horrible, scratchy orange uniform and follows his cellmate out with a dry throat, a pounding head and a cold body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be posting the second chapter tomorrow, probably (:


	2. you are the bestest person i know

Mickey’s eyes trail from the different shades of metal he seems to be buried in to the empty seat in front of him.

He overhears the other inmates’ conversations, in here, nobody’s ever angry or aggressive. Everyone is genuinely happy for once, they all seem to have missed whoever they’re talking to on the other side of the glass a ton.

When he spots two familiar faces wrapped up in chunky winter coats he almost wants to scream.

Svetlana seats herself in front of him before pulling an excited Yevgeny up into her lap. His cheeks and his nose are a soft pink and his eyes bluer than ever. With a big grin on his face he enthusiastically grabs the phone from its place and holds it to his ear.

„Hey, lil’ guy.“

„Hi, papa.“

To Mickey, Yevgeny’s smile is, along with his laugh, the most precious thing about him, has been since he was a baby, and Mickey swears it makes his heart ache in his chest more and more every single visit. 

„What’ you wanna talk about?“

Yev has always been more of a quiet kid, he doesn’t talk much normally but during the visits he’s as bubbly and talkative as can be. He’s gotten used to only seeing his father once a week so when they do visit him he makes sure to tell him about everything.

Svet says he knows better than to waste the time because he’s very smart for his age. Mickey knows it’s more than that.

He tells him stories from daycare, about his best friend Lorenz and the stupid girls that like to tease him. He also tells him stories from home, about helping mama cook and watching grown-up movies with her.

With the child seated in her lap Svetlana too is contently smiling at hearing the 3 year old talk so freely and happily.

Listening to his son is naturally the highlight of every week for Mickey.

„We will play a halloween show in the daycare, mama cut bed sheets so I will be a ghost and Lorenz will be a bat. I will be a lot more scary.“ 

The bright smile on his face turns off as if controlled by a light switch.

„But I know you can’t come.“

Svetlana’s expression changes from fulfilled to distressed in a mere second.

„In daycare Ally says you are here because you are bad but I don’t think you are.“

There is something deeply heartfelt and outspoken in Yevgeny’s voice and tone, something that gets lost when one grows up.

„Bad persons are always angry and do mean things and you don’t do that.“

The innocence the child is speaking with and the sincerity in every single word, unlike adults, he truly means everything he’s saying.

„You are never mean to me or mama so you are the bestest person I know!“

Svet’s eyes are dimly glowing in total awe of her smiling son.

„Well, what about mama?“

Yevgeny and Svetlana share an earnest look.

„I love mama.“

Still looking at his mother he straightens his back enough to be able to plant a kiss on her cheek. He then presses the telephone closer to his face and starts whispering the next few sentences.

„But I want to tell you a secret. Sometimes when I walk in the house with my dirty shoes she is angry. She kisses all over my face after she is mad but before I always wish that you are there and then I think I love you more, papa.“

„I love you too, Yev. I love you more than anything or anyone else in the world.“

He means it.

„I wanna tell you a little secret, too.“

Mickey looks both ways before leaning in closer to the telephone. He’s staring right into the kid’s eyes, their shade of blue mirroring his own.

„They want to keep me in here for a looong time but if I behave they are going to let me go home to you and mama very soon.“

Yev’s face lights up again.

„In our house? With us? Forever?“

Mickey doesn’t think he’s ever seen something as admirable as the look on his son’s face in that very moment.

„Yeah, little one, every day. So I’ll be good for you two, I’ll do all my work and I won’t cause any trouble and I’ll also never wear my dirty shoes around the building so I can come home as soon as possible, ’that sound good?“

Yevgeny nods eagerly.

„Can you do that too for me? Make sure you help mama and take care of her and don’t get the floor dirty with your sneakers?“

„Yes, pops.“

The little family of three is appeasably beaming.

„Awesome, Yev. I’m very proud of you, can you do another thing for me?“

With sparkling eyes he nods again.

„Can you put your forehead on the glass for me?“

Yevgeny doesn’t hesitate with doing so, the sensation of the cold glass dragging a surprised giggle out of him.

Mickey leans forward and places a kiss directly onto his son’s forehead through the glass. The cold tingle on his lips surprises him, too.

„I love you, Yev.“

His heart says it without a worry.

„I love you too, pops.“

The response lets all other worries disappear.

„Can you give mama the phone?“

Yev immediately presses it onto his mother’s ear who takes the phone into her own hand right after mouthing ’thank you’.

„Hey, Svet.“

„I’m proud of you.“

They don’t usually talk in such a kind and loving manner but when it does happen Mickey knows she truly means what she says. He smiles at her and he communicates his ’thank you’ without opening his mouth.

„Can I ask you for a favor?“

„Yes.“

„There’s not really any fucking way for me to do it from in here so could you, um-“

He struggles to make his request but eventually manages to choke out the following sentence.

„Can you try to reach Mandy for me?“

Mickey pauses for a moment before he continues.

„I don’t think she changed her number so if you could call her and maybe try to get her in here or something so I can-“

**BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ**

The buzzer noise interrupts him mid-sentence and he doesn’t bother to complete it afterwards. Svetlana and Mickey share a sincere look.

„I will, I promise you.“

They stare at each other for another second before Svetlana hangs up. 

She mouths something into Yev’s ear that Mickey can’t make out without the sound of her voice but he’s able to lip-read the ’bye papa’ that slips from his son’s lips as he waves him goodbye.

Svetlana waves at him too and so does Mickey at the both of them with a big, genuine smile on his face.

_He’s not cold anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. you' welcome, douchebag

The time is long and filled with shouts and fists. Sometimes it’s hard to breathe. Mickey tries to stay out of it. It works for the most part but there’s still the creatures that go hunting for everything living. He doesn’t fight back unless he has to.

He gets hurt, he patches himself up. Mickey Milkovich doesn’t need anyone anyone’s help. Mickey Milkovich has been dealing with his own bruises and injuries for an eternity. Mickey Milkovich doesn’t deserve to be treated with care. 

At night in between the rough sheets he dreams a lot. His dreams are vile and gruesome. They’re filled with violent scatters of freckles and fiery burns across his skin that leave his bones exposed. They’re fast and they end up locked away in the back of his head. He wishes they could escape.

One is distinct and seems to be the odd one out. There’s a dog. There’s a hand. The dog gets hit. The dog winces. Then the dog proceeds to lick the hand that hit it just seconds ago.

It lets him wake up in an ice-cold sweat. The moonlight is gaping through the small barred window. The air is stiff. He’s itching. He must’ve laid in stinging nettles.

His shivering hand makes its way to his chest. Harsh scratches are beginning to paint a humiliating picture on the skin covering his upper ribcage, the artist’s name remains anonymous. With nails scraping at the surface not reaching through, he finds it hard to avoid choking on the air as the claws dig deeper. The fast-paced breaths escaping his throat feel out of place.

He doesn’t understand the dream. He doesn’t think he’s supposed to understand it. He doesn’t think much more about it either.

He wishes his mom would tuck him back in. She’d whisper sweet nothings and make it all okay again with a simple kiss to the forehead. 

He falls back asleep with a mouth full of nettles and regret instead.

The daylight is less horrid. The wild attack on his chest doesn't look as terrifying now standing on cold white tiles with water washing over the wound. He’ll patch himself up eventually.

Most inmates aren’t monsters. Mickey doesn’t talk to them but he watches from a distance. On their own they don’t seem terrifying. They look fragile, almost. The harsh edges of their faces soften and the threatening looks in their eyes fade away.

His cellmate doesn’t vocalize it, but Mickey can see the remorse in his expression. His name is Rahin. His skin is a fawn color and his face is defined by prominent bushy eyebrows. His black hair is always trimmed in a buzz cut. He’s mentioned his Arabian heritage before.

Rahin used to draw at night. He’d gotten his hands on charcoal and paper. Mickey concluded the guards must have given it to him in exchange for - something, whatever.

A woman, that Mickey had assumed to be his wife, used to visit him along with a girl, that Mickey had assumed to be his daughter, every Tuesday and Saturday. He would always show the new drawings to the little girl.

Every single sheet of paper was filled with streaks of black charcoal constructing her face. They were beautiful and unique and his daughter must’ve thought so, too.

The visits became less frequent. They were reduced to only Saturdays until they eventually stopped. Rahin doesn’t care much for drawing these days.

Today is Thursday. Svetlana and Yevgeny usually visit on Fridays which is why Mickey’s surprised when the guards are going through the visitor list and yell out the Milkovich’s name.

He leaves the cell and follows the others into the visitor area.

Mickey doesn’t waste any time with taking seat and picking up the phone when he spots who’s patiently waiting on the other side.

Blue eyes glare up at him. Relaxed eyebrows are close friends with blonde bangs framing a beautiful face.

„Hey.“

He breathes for the first time in what feels like years.

„Hey, Mands.“

He shares an immensely relieved look with his sister before starting up a conversation.

They talk.

Mandy tells him about her new home and the two girls living with her. She tells him about the apartment and the minimalistic kitchen. She mentions the amazing rooftop they have access to. She talks about wild parties under the stars and quiet nights drinking wine and smoking cigarettes. She doesn’t tell him much about anything else.

Mickey knows it’s not without reason so he keeps his questions to himself.

They’ve always done it like that.

„You doin’ okay, Mick?“

It’s not casual. She seems concerned and tense so Mickey doesn’t bother with a comedic remark.

„Yeah, I’m holdin’ up alright.“

„You really think they’ll keep you locked up for fifteen?“

„No fucking way, shithole’s filling up with too many bastards so they’ already releasin’ the harmless idiots.“

Mandy’s stuck in her head for a moment before she gives her brother a weak smile and a nod. It’s silent for a while. She’s worried, Mickey can see that.

The hand she’s placed on the metal in front of her is nervously scraping at it. The black polish is chipped and some nails appear to be bitten in.

„I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit every week but I’ll be here every now and again.“

She makes sure to make eye-contact before continuing.

„That’ alright?“

**BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ**

The awful migraine-generating buzzer noise interrupts and Mickey uses the second to think.

„You know, you don’t need to look after your fuck-up of a brother. ’Been through this behind bars bullshit a hundred times.“

„Well, but I wanna make sure your ass is doin’ alright so you’re gonna have to fucking deal.“

The siblings both crack a smile. 

Mickey wants to thank her. Mandy sees him struggle with it.

„You’ welcome, douchebag.“

They share another look. It’s kind. It’s loving. It’s more than words.

They say their goodbyes and then she’s gone.

Time’s still a bitch but weekly forehead kisses through thinning glass and glances of blonde hair make it bearable and let it pass eventually. 

Mickey Milkovich is released after four years, two months and nineteen days behind prison bars in opposition to his original sentencing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, this was kinda heavy, i'm sorry! next chapter will be more uplifting, i promise ^-^


	4. look who's here, too

As Mickey makes his first step out of the facility he’s hit in the face with fresh, cold air. It feels so light on his face, blowing the sparse stinky prison dust right off and away.

He spots Mandy engulfing cigarette smoke leaning on the jeep that’s parked just meters away right next to the musty-looking once white walls of the prison. The wind keeps causing Mandy’s hair to fly in every possible direction but she manages to keep the cigarette sealed tightly in-between her lips from setting the strands on fire.

Scanning over the white varnish and the lightly tinted vehicle windows he can make out two dearly-missed faces seated in the front and back car seat.

„Mickey! We’ve been freezing our asses off.“

His jacket gets tossed around softly by the refreshing winter wind as he makes his way over to his sister. It’s a nice contrast to orange pieces of sandpaper fabric sewn together and sold off as clothes. They defeat the original purpose of clothing, keeping a body warm, and make you feel all scratchy and cold inside instead.

Mandy tosses the cigarette just before pulling Mickey in for a hug. The now slightly unfamiliar Milkovich embrace feels like - home.

„Missed you, dickhead.“

The typical nicotine smell that she’s soaked in has a comforting effect on Mickey.

„Did too, sis.“

He cracks a minimal but sincere smile to assure his sister of his wellbeing.

The back-car door opens and an enthusiastic Svetlana hops out of the seat wearing a long, brown, pompous fur coat. Her lips are painted a deep red and her happiness is very visibly showing through in form of a smile.

She grabs Mickey by his shoulders and places a sincere kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain on his face.

They don’t have a typical mother-father relationship or whatever, but through everything horrible Svetlana had been there for him the whole time he’d been locked up. She’d always made sure Mickey was doing „relatively“ okay and that he was able to see his son weekly during the time behind bars.

_„It’s not your duty, you know that, right? S’not like we’re even married anymore.“_

_„So, what? Yevgeny is your child like he is my child. You have right to be father.“_

Her morals might seem a little one-of-a-kind to outsiders but one of her biggest priorities is keeping her family safe. People like her don’t care about how fucked up a situation is, they work through it, they survive and they do it without complaining.

„Look who’s here, too!“

Mandy’s voice is soft as she says it. Svetlana takes a step towards the front of the car and opens the door leaving behind the scent of sweet-smelling perfume.

Yevgeny jumps out of the child’s safety seat and it’s like sunshine on a rainy day.

Wrapped in what seems to be about three jackets and a thick pair of trousers he stiffly walks his way over to his father and is immediately picked up by his arms. Mickey holds him up in the air, not having expected six year olds to be this heavy.

His glove-covered hands cling around the back of his father’s neck and onto his upper back and Mickey notices a bubbling, burning ache right in the middle of his chest as the little kid is in his arms for the first time in years, now not so little anymore. 

„Papa!“

His expression of happy feelings for his father, in form of a warm shout, is muffled by Mickey’s jacket. The young boy’s face is buried in Mickey’s lower right shoulder, his snub nose is softly poking into the dent of his shoulder blade.

He starts patting over his son’s head and the soft dark blonde hair covering it with his right palm. When Yevgeny pulls back his head to look at his father the bright smile on his face and the front tooth that’s missing in the row of teeth makes Mickey’s heart physically warm up. 

„I missed you, Yev.“

He kisses his son’s forehead without any stupid glass panels separating them and tugs his thumb over one of the cold flushed cheeks before carefully getting a better grip at holding him and looking up at the two females who had been contently watching the scene.

„Come on you guys, before I lose a limb in the cold!“

Mandy gives them a weak smile before making her way around the front of the car and getting back into the driver's seat.

Svetlana’s about to grab Yev out of Mickey’s arms in order to place him in his safety-seat again when the six year old makes a request.

„Mama, can I sit in papa’s lap until we get back home?“

All present adults think about it for a second until Svet gives Mickey a nod.

„Yes, lyubimaya.“

It’s russian, Mickey doesn’t understand it. Svet’s called Yevgeny by it before during the visits. He knows it’s loving.

She ruffles his hair as Mickey whispers thank you and then resumes to her spot in the back seat.

Mickey looks down at his son to see the grin on his face still hasn’t died down. It’s heartbreakingly captivating. There are no restrictions.

With Yev still in his arms he makes his way over to the other side of the car and carefully opens the door. He takes the backseat behind Mandy with Svetlana to his right and Yevgeny in his lap. He makes sure his son is comfortably seated and then fastens the seatbelt around the both of them.

The drive is long and Yevgeny falls asleep halfway through. Mickey nuzzles the back of his head and feels warm.

The car stops when they reach another traffic light and Mandy turns around from her seat to look at her brother and nephew. She looks proud.

They’re all here and they’re all safe.

Mickey is free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are all about 1k long each, that's kinda short i guess? but meh, hope ur enjoying this so far (:

**Author's Note:**

> i'm insanely frustrated with everything that is shameless atm and all i actually want to see is mickey milkovich being happy so i'm trying to fix the ugly mess the writers made with this (: 
> 
> hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable & u can find me on tumblr @yeahmickeyillwait


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